


Golden Boy

by angrythingstarlight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrythingstarlight/pseuds/angrythingstarlight
Summary: Steve deserves the very best in life including you, even it means taking you from his best pal. After all, he is Captain America, the good guy. And the good guy always gets the girl.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	Golden Boy

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angrythingstarlight (for more of my work)

Salacious skin slapping mingling with choked gasps, unrestrained animalistic grunts, his thoughts concentrated on one overwhelming task. 

Ruining you. 

Earlier:

The living room dark, the flat screen casting a warm glow on the couch, you’re curled up on Bucky’s lap, head resting on his shoulder as you play with his fingers. Steve sits on the other end, watching you out of the corner of his eye, your black shorts riding up, showing off your thighs. 

The black and white film capturing your attention, a subdued painful scene unfolding on the screen, Bucky rubs your back when you gasp. Steve bites his lip when yours quivers. 

“Hey pal remember when you had to wear newspapers in your shoes too?” Buck asks, looking at Steve’s profile, an affable grin etched on his face, raising a brow, “Remember” he nods at you. You turn to Steve, a faint blush on his cheeks. 

He meets your eyes, laughing as he shrugs, “long time ago Buck”. He grabs his beer off the table, the condensation collecting on his palm as he empties the bottle. He wipes his hand on his pant leg.

Wiping his hand on his pants, his fingers discovering another hole, looking down, he sighs, at least he can cover it. He un-tucks the ill fitting shirt smoothing it down, the crumpled paper scraping against his toes. Hearing his name, he glances down the street, seeing his best friend. 

He’s in another new suit. 

Steve squints, new shoes too. 

He always has something new, he’s never had to have a hand-me-down in his-

“Steve” He blinks, shaking his head, your hand on his shoulder, “Steve, are you okay?’ 

“Of course, I’ll get more beer”. He pats your hand, waiting until you remove it, missing the light touch. 

Steve lies on top of his sheets, staring at the wavering shadows on his ceiling. His arms behind his head as he listens to the quiet moans in the other room. His cock stirring as he imagines you straddling him, your hands dancing up his abs, your lips on his- His fantasy interrupted when Bucky groans your name. 

image  
Sweat pouring down his face, his shirt sticking to his chest while he delivers another jab to the punching bag. He stops, steadying the bag when he hears your voice down the hall. Wiping off his face, he grabs his water bottle, smiling when you enter the training room, dressed in your favorite gym attire. He can’t believe you think you need to workout, such a perfect doll. Bucky swings the door open, slapping your ass on his way in, you push him away, rolling your eyes.

“Hey Steve, ready”. Bucky shadowboxes, making his way across the room. 

Steve’s gaze flickers to you, you’re leaning against the wall, arms folded as you watch Bucky. Steve cracks his neck, putting up his wrapped fists, “Lets go”. A few soft punches exchanged, shuffling back and forth until Bucky lands a blow right under his ribs, the wind knocked out of him, dropping him to his knees.

“Bucky be careful” you yelp, rushing over to Steve. 

The punch knocks him into the garbage can, his head spinning as the smell of decomposing food permeates his swollen nose.”

Hey, pick on someone your own size”. Shame settling deep in his stomach, something else tearing at his soul, something he can’t recognize, festering as Bucky speaks, casually adjusting his new outfit, the words washing over him. 

That uniform. 

That should be his uniform. 

“I had him on the ropes”. Rancid thoughts plaguing, tainting his mind, enlistment, not good enough, Jersey, better than you, the 107th, poor sickly Steve, Sergeant James Barnes.

Aw poor little fella” Bucky jokes. Steve’s face burns, quickly averting his enraged eyes. 

“Are you alright?”, you question, your hands pushing on his stomach, “Does that hurt?”. Steve grabs your hands, your worried eyes searching his face, his stomach knotting seeing the sickening pity in your orbs. 

Not you too. 

He storms out the room, ignoring Bucky’s apologies, “Guess I need to pick on someone my own size, huh, sweetheart”. The words drifting down the hallway, Steve clenches his fists, staring at the ground as your shocked laughter follows. 

Taking a deep breath, he relaxes his hands, a cruel smirk easing over his face.He’s no longer the little sickly Steve, it’s time Bucky learned that. He pulls out his phone. 

image  
Steve opens the front door, listening for you. Your quiet breathing letting him know that you’ve fallen asleep. You always try to stay awake for Bucky, it wasn’t uncommon for one of them to find you resting on the couch or on a chair somewhere. 

He slips off his shoes, his sock covered feet silent on the hardwood floors. The low whirl of the air conditioner in the front hall fading as he makes his way to the rooms. He opens his door, tossing his bag inside.

Gently closing the door, he stands outside your room, his hand hovering over the doorknob. 

Ash rained down from the murky sky, distressed cries reverberated through the air, echoing faintly in his ears as he tracked the area, his shield lodged in the mangled roof of an overturned car. Fury promised it would be a simple mission, collect the rogue agent before he left the city. No one was prepared for Hydra to be accompanying him to the drop point. The battle raged across three city blocks, the agent gone, leaving utter destruction in his wake. 

Steve retrieves his shield, wiping the thick layer of soot off. Cries for help drawing his attention to the northern corner, his heart racing when he sees you. 

Your leg trapped under a metal beam, an immense boom forcing all eyes to the sky, your terrified screaming haunting as part of the building behind you breaks. Before the slab of concrete can reach you, he’s pulling you out of the way. You’re trembling body attached to his as you wept into his suit. 

Several hours later, Steve finds your hospital room, he’s standing outside waiting for the doctors to leave. “Hey pal”. Bucky slaps his shoulder, “Fury’s here” he cautions. 

The doctor steps out, his eyes on a chart, leaving the door open. You lean forward in the stretcher, waving at Steve, your face beaming. 

Bucky whistles, “Who’s the girl?”. 

Before Steve can respond, Fury’s stomping down the hallway calling his name. Steve looks back, a dull ache in his chest as Bucky enters your room.

“Rogers, what the hell happened out there”. Fury snarls, not breaking his stride. Steve grimaces following the fuming man.

Fury halts, turning to stare at Steve, “You know if it weren’t for Barnes, that agent you lost would have gotten away.”

Steve clenches his fists, not this, Bucky can’t have this too. 

Three days later, you had shown up the compound in a pink sundress, that flowed around your body, a vision that brightened his day. He had been tempted to carry you inside when you showed him the brace on your ankle. 

His heart stopped when you gave him the handwritten card and a plate of homemade cookies for him. 

Shyly telling him you couldn’t thank him enough. Your sweet, endearing smile the highlight of his shitty week.

Your words are the best sounds he had ever heard.

That you would always be indebted. 

Always appreciate him. Those beautiful eyes promising to be everything he needs. 

He was about to ask you to dinner, when Bucky appeared, stealing you away from him. 

Steve watched as Bucky took another thing from him. Bucky never went without and he couldn’t let him have one thing of his own. 

Bucky needs to know how it feels to lose, to have what he desires taken from him. 

He saved you, not Bucky. He’s your hero, not Bucky.

You should be with him, cherish him, love him. 

You will.

He’ll make sure of it, after all you did say you couldn’t thank him enough. 

It’s time you proved how thankful you are to your savior. 

He opens the door, pale slivers of moonlight cut across the darkness, casting shadows on the bed. He shuts the curtains, his eyes adjusting to the pitch black. He watches the rise and fall of your chest as he peels off his suit. The material falls to the floor as he steps out of it. Pulling the flimsy sheet off of your body, he grins when he sees you’re only in a skimpy tank top and white panties. 

You shift before settling back, flinging an arm over your face. Steve crawls up the bed, moving your legs apart, tearing off your panties. He rubs his beard on your soft thighs, his rough fingers moving through your silky folds, spreading them, exposing your bud. His wet tongue following, dragging up from your core to your clit, tasting better than he dreamed.

He can hear your breathing change, faster, harder as he licks and sucks, moans vibrating in your throat, a whispered name on your lips. He pretends its his, it will be soon enough.

Your slick drenching his face, his tongue sweeping through you faster until your hips jerk up, restless legs squirming beside him. He pins you down, a large across you, bobbing his head as he vulgarly slurps, the loud sopping overtaken by your debauched whimpers as you grab his head. 

You never sounded like that with Bucky, he smirks, lifting his head, your palms on your eyes, soft whines as he taps your sensitive clit. 

Mouth open, panting as you reach for him, he crawls over your body, relishing in your softness, your warm skin on his burning flesh. Peppering kisses on your collarbone, trailing his way to your lips, soft dry lips under his. His tongue gliding over yours, deepening the kiss as he guides his throbbing cock in to your slick heat. 

Swallowing your gasp, as your perfect cunt stretches around him, your hot walls snug, taking every inch until he bottoms out. 

You were made for him. 

He stares at your face, eyes scrunched shut as you dig your fingers into his back, pleading for him to fuck you. 

You don’t beg Bucky like this, you want this, want him. 

He anchors a leg over his broad shoulder, moving within you, a tortuously slow pace until you’re writhing beneath him, incoherent pleas for more. He braces himself, thrusting faster, changing his angle, depth until 

yes right there,right there please.

Gratifyingly painful scratches down his back let him know he’s found it, dragging his cock over that sweet spot again and again. 

Your walls fluttering around him, your desperate, needy keens intensifying, your eyes rolling back. “That’s it sweetheart, cum for your captain”, he growls.

Your eyes fly open, hands moving to his arms, he smirks as you squeeze. “Bucky?” you gasp, fear in your voice as you squint in the darkness, his large body pressing yours into the soft mattress. 

“No, someone better, sweetheart” he whispers in your ear, his head dropping to your neck, nipping as you thrash under him, the tender skin already bruising, your screams cut off as he brings your other leg up, moving impossibly deeper within you. “Shh, be good for me”.

Your body compliant beneath him, powerless to resist the pleasure surging through you, each squirm to move away, drawing him deeper in you.

So fucking tight”, he hoarsely moans, his movements ferocious, the headboard banging against the wall. “ My perfect little doll, taking my cock so well”. 

The rhythmic knocking matching each breathtaking, relentless stroke tightening the burning coil in your belly until broken sobs are ripped from you. You involuntarily clench down, your orgasm spiraling through your frame. “Such a good girl”, he hums watching you come apart. 

You try to turn your head, burning with shame, Steve grips your chin, pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck gonna cum, gonna fill you up sweetheart” He grunts, his wicked grin seared in your mind. 

“No Steve” You plead, pushing at his chest, tears streaming down your face.

He barely feels your feeble attempts to move him, He groans your name, pounding harder hitting your cervix with with each thrust, as he chases his release. 

His sweat covered forehead pressing into yours, face reddening when his thrusts stutter, your hands twisting in the pillow as he coats your pulsating walls with warm, thick spurts of his cum, letting your legs fall to the bed. 

Resting on your heaving breasts, “Don't’ worry sweetheart, I’ll tell him that you’re mine, you don’t have to worry about a single thing with me” he murmurs as you tremble beneath his oppressive scorching weight, his cock softening in your aching channel.

You close your eyes praying this is a nightmare, your breath caught in your throat when you hear familiar footsteps in the hallway.

He turns his head to door, chuckling when it opens. 

“Hi Buck,”


End file.
